


Interruptions

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Missing Scene, Post-Series, Romance, Sex, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis is full of interruptions to the smooth development of a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptions

Atlantis is full of interruptions.

\--

The first time is while they're drinking old Athosian wine rescued from a cellar untouched by the Wraith's scorching of the planet.

Teyla's laughter bubbles through the room, smooth and rich over the alcohol, which is smoother and richer than John would have expected from tent-dwellers. John grins behind his mug, the warmth in his belly two parts alcohol, one part simple masculine pleasure.

It's not going anywhere - he's read the SGC's handbook on 'interplanetary relationships with aliens' and he knows how to behave, what to avoid. It's just that when John makes her laugh, he doesn't feel like a screw-up, or a guinea-pig, or an officer with the weight of the expedition on his shoulders - he feels like just another guy hanging out with a woman whose company he enjoys.

"Would you like another glass?"

Teyla sits up to get the bottle, he reaches out at the same time. Her skin is warm and smooth and when his hand locks around her wrist, he can feel the pulse of her heart against his thumb.

John hasn't quite tugged on her wrist when his radio hisses on the table with Bates looking for him.

\--

She's putting away her laundry, he came see her. She's been helping Ronon Dex acclimatise, he's been busy reporting on Doranda.

"So you went drinking on Belka?"

"With one of Ronon's friends."

"You and Dex seem to be getting along pretty well. You want some help with that?"

'That' is a sheet that's gotten crumpled in the bottom of the basket and whose corner is tossed to him. "If you would, please."

In half, then half, then half again, lengthwise, then the fold in to the middle, fingers resting lightly on fingers, standing close enough to kiss. John won't deny he's thought about it before. From the flicker in her eyes, Teyla's thought about it, too.

When the doorchime rings, it's Ronon come to ask if Teyla wants to go for a jog.

John wonders who goes for a jog at 2200 hours.

\--

The city is silent but hardly sleeping as Teyla sits in the chair by the window and listens to John picking out songs on his guitar. Ronon's gone for a last run through the city before he heads off to bed, and Teyla should retire to her own rooms.

Instead, she reaches for the popcorn bowl, seeking the last few buttered puffs.

"Sorry," John says over the music. "I ate the last. But I left a pallet of boxes in the supplies for your people. Just don't eat them all at once."

"Thank you." She is touched by the gesture, by the little kindnesses he practises when she knows he need not.

They fall silent, still looking at each other, Teyla wonders if no is the moment to rise and cross the room. Should she take the guitar from his hands and bend down to sample his mouth? Would his hands slide under her top with the awkward eagerness that she would expect of him, or would he take her shoulders and push her away?

His gaze does not fall from hers, and Teyla begins to unfold herself from the bed. And stops.

He has lifted his hand to his ear, has looked away and is frowning. "Elizabeth? Yeah, I checked that this afternoon. I thought Zelenka was going to-- Right. Of course. I'll go now." And when his hand drops, there is an apology in his eyes. "I gotta check one of the storerooms - apparently we didn't clear it out and..."

The moment is lost, and Teyla helps him with the storeroom, but doesn't allow herself another opportunity. Some lines are better left uncrossed.

\--

Teyla finds John out on one of the balconies, resting his arms on the railing while the wind tousles his hair.

"John."

"Hey." He turns and his smile is easy, if a little distracted. "I just needed some time out. Haven't seen you around lately. Keller said you've been in and out of the infirmary - everything okay?"

There are so many ways to answer that. So many things she wishes to tell him and she has the words to explain none of it.

Her people are missing and although she has been apart for them for a long time, this is a severance - an absence that gnaws at her. She is with child, sired with an old friend - a true friend, who reached out to comfort her in a moment of need, who found his own comfort with her. And in this time when she needs her friends in Atlantis most, they have deserted her, hollowed by their own troubles.

"Yes," she says, although her mouth is dry. "Everything is-- John." She must tell him. It cannot wait too much longer or he will see and then where will she be?

He turns to look at her, a strange hope in his eyes.

"Sheppard?" Doors hiss open. "Oh, Teyla. Uh, hi." Rodney stops in his tracks and hesitates, looking from one to the other, awkward. "Um, I can come back later."

But even when he goes and John turns back to her, she cannot find the words - does not know what to say, does not know how to say it.

And so it goes unsaid, for one more day.

\--

It is the first morning of the rest of her son's life, and Teyla spends it in the sunshine. Her son is happy to be awake and even happier to be making a mess of his mash, and Teyla is happy to be alive and to know that Michael is dead and will not threaten her any longer.

Occupied by Torran's mash-painting, she doesn't notice John's arrival at the table until he is seated, his tray set down across from her. "Morning. I see he's in a good mood. Artistic." He makes a gesture at his hair to indicate the mash her son is presently smearing into her hair.

Teyla smiles sweetly and extracts her son's paws from her scalp, holding him out at arm's length. He is so big, soon she will not be able to do this. "Would you like to hold him then, John? Your hair could always do with a little work."

"I asked for that didn't I?" John sighs, long-suffering, but he stands up and reaches over the table to pluck Torran from her hands. "Hey, little buddy. How are we doing today?"

Torran makes an 'Ah!' noise, followed by 'Bah-bah' and 'Dah-dah' noises, and Teyla finds herself smiling at the flush that sweeps across John's cheekbones as she wipes her hair clear of the tuber smears.

It is not what she hoped for, but it will do.

"Look, I never said thanks for last night. For, you know, dealing with Michael when--"

"Hey, Teyla!" The call comes from the door - one of the young female marines newly assigned to the city. "Control says Kanaan's just arrived. Damned if he didn't feel a disturbance in the Force last night."

Kanaan, who would know the touch of Michael, and fear it.

John has already jiggled Torran around in his arms to hand him back. "I, uh, you'll be okay?"

"Yes." It is not what she wants to do; but it is her responsibility to Kanaan as the father of her son.

She leaves him at the table with two trays and a tuber mash mess to clean up.

\--

Her skin is hot beneath his fingertips as he strokes his finger gently up her spine, then all the way back down. The look she shoots him is deadly and hot, and her hand presses lightly against his thigh, an aching warning for him to behave himself.

John wonders what the others in the elevator would think if he lowered his mouth to the long, brown curve of her nape and bit, hard enough to shock, soft enough to arouse.

He wonders what Teyla would do.

Instead, he smiles politely to the paunchy, odorous tourists who fill the elevator, and doesn't say a word - just lets his fingers tremble on the skin at the base of her spine - light as a caress, delicate as this thing between them, newly-born in their isolation on Earth. Will it last once they go back? Can they maintain it if they go back? Can they live with it if John holds to his duty as a soldier and a man of Earth and Teyla follows her duty as a mother and a woman of Pegasus?

Does it matter, in the end? He has a feeling that he doesn't have it in him to do 'forever'; then again, Teyla knows exactly how fragile 'forever' can be.

They get out at their floor, decorous and prim.

Nothing is said or done all the long walk down to their suite. The doorkey beeps in the slot. John ushers Teyla through. The door snicks shut behind them.

Then it's hands and mouths on skin, buttons popping and zippers dragging. She's salty and hot when his tongue laves her flesh, and her hands are strong and sensuous on his skin. He bites down on the smooth skin of her neck, and she arches. Then her teeth are in his shoulder, a fierce snap of pleasure-pain, and John nearly comes in his pants, right there in the hall, with Teyla Emmagan shoving him back against the wall like she'd crawl into his skin if she only could.

John knows the feeling. He wants her skin against his, wants her mouth deep in his, wants her body clenching around him as he thrusts.

"Curtains," she manages between kisses.

They're twenty-five floors up; to hell with the curtains. "Let them watch."

He doesn't want any interruptions to this - not this time.

Somewhat to John's surprise, there are no interruptions - no knocks on the door, no SGC ringtones of doom, not even a bright flash of light and the discovery that they're on the _Daedelus_ bridge and it's time to save the world - again.

He makes love with Teyla Emmagan on the floor of a hotel room in New York City, and the world doesn't end.

Who'd have thought it?

Although, later, sweat-speckled and with Teyla's deep heaves of breath whispering through his hair, John reflects that maybe the Earth didn't stop, but it sure as hell moved for a few brilliant moments.


End file.
